


Born to be Contrary

by aspiringreyes (lilacooper)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacooper/pseuds/aspiringreyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke gets sexiled by her roommate and Bellamy finds her in the common room. They disagree over where Clarke should spend the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born to be Contrary

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic! I would love to hear what you liked or disliked! Let me know :)  
> Also! Thank you so much to my Beta, [Sarah](http://sarahrunsfromzombies.tumblr.com)

For Clarke, it had started with an annoying interruption to her studying. With midterms in a week, she’d barely had time to eat, let alone discuss weekend plans with her roommate. The roommate who was just a little too smart for Clarke. Somehow, Octavia maintained a high average in her politics courses without ever cracking open a book. Clarke supposed it had to do with the brunette’s ability to debate easily and be persuasive.

And speaking of persuasive...

“Hey Clarke!”

“Hi Octavia, what’s up?”

“Sooooo, you remember the guy with the tattoos? Lincoln? The one who is literally perfect? He’s with me, and I was wondering...” Clarke sighed. She knew where this was going. “Maybe could you possibly let me have the room for a bit? Just for a little while? We wanted to... play scrabble.” Octavia giggled into the phone.

With an internal groan, Clarke pretended to think it over. She knew she would say yes. There really was no refusing Octavia. , Plus, she was usual pretty good about this. O - only bringing guys over when she knew Clarke was out already or finding other places to go. But she had been talking about Lincoln for weeks and Clarke was sure he was something different. So she heaved yet another sigh and replied, “Sure O. I’ll go to the library or something.”

“Clarke! You’re the best!” Octavia squealed into the phone.

“I know, I know. How long till you get here?”

“Um, maybe half an hour?”

“Alright, I’ll be gone. See you later”

“Bye babe!”

 

Clarke began mentally talking herself through what she needed to go to the library. Being a thorough person, she was unsurprised to realize that by the time she was ready to leave, 25 minutes had passed. She quickly grabbed her jacket and closed the door, armed with her book bag and determination to get the top mark in her difficult (albeit unnecessary) history class. She was halfway to the library when she stopped dead in her tracks.

“It’s Monday,” she whispered to herself in horror. The realization hit her like a train. She had been on a study marathon since dawn. Because she didn’t have class. Because it was Thanksgiving Monday. Which meant the university was closed, including the library.

Clarke felt like crying. She was just so exhausted and all she wanted to do was study so she could wipe that stupid smirk off the face of Bellamy Asshat. (She didn’t know his last name, but she could improvise as well as the next girl.)

With a frustrated whimper, Clarke turned back towards her residence, hoping the common room would be quiet enough for her to work.

 

***

 

For Bellamy, it started with a drink. Whiskey, to be specific. Because he was young and his friends had insisted on a bar and whiskey was good. That had been several hours and many more drinks ago.

Now, he’s stumbling back to his residence- the same one as his sister because he was trying to let go, but God, he’s not perfect- with the hopes of face planting onto his bed and maybe sleeping through the worst of the hangover. He doesn’t need the kids on his floor, who he was supposed to be supervising, to see him like this. The elevator door opens and he steps out, taking in the unfamiliar decor.

_I definitely did not create a thanksgiving wonderland up here._

He’s just able to process that he hit the wrong button in the elevator and is turning to call it again when a flash of blonde catches his eye.

Bellamy walks over to the couch to investigate and gasps when he looks down. It’s none other than Clarke Griffin, aka the bane of his existence on this earth. His first thought is that she looks uncomfortable. Her neck is at an odd angle with the book she fell asleep on and her arms and legs are crunched under her body. He’s about to walk away because she isn’t his responsibility and he’s really not in the mood to get in a fight right now, when she shifts slightly. Suddenly, he can see her face and he can’t help thinking that she’s beautiful when she isn’t yelling at him.

He stands there for a minute, unsure of his next move, when she _moans_. Bellamy has no idea if its as a result of a dream or her uncomfortable position, but suddenly, he can’t stop thinking about other ways to get Clarke to moan again. It isn’t like he hasn’t thought about it before, either. He’s been dreaming about her since school started again and she had waltzed into his fourth year history course. He soon learned that she was a freshman taking a difficult course for fun. And that she was only 2 percent away from his top mark. He was completely entranced by her and the way she matched him in wit and in speed. But good lord did he want to make her moan again.

 

Somewhere in his foggy, but clearing mind, he knows she would want to be woken up. It’s this thought which prompts him to stretch out a hand and touch her shoulder.

“Princess” he whispers, nudging her, “wake up.” She doesn’t move so he shakes her a little harder, though not ungently. “Clarke! Wake up!”

Slowly, her eyes flutter open and she takes in her surroundings.

“Shit! Where am I? Bellamy?”

“Clarke, you fell asleep studying.”

She curses again, “Dammit. That was _not_ the plan”

He smirks. “Maybe you should go to bed?”

Clarke groans. “I can’t go to bed! My roommate’s having sex right now! Or she’s not. Either way, I don’t wanna go find out.”

Bellamy grimaces in sympathy, “I know how that feels. My roommate used to do that to me all the time.”

Suddenly, Clarke seems to realize that her arch nemesis is standing over her. “Bellamy, what are you actually doing here?”

“I live here, Princess”

“No, you don’t.” Clarke was trying very hard not to be annoyed with the nickname.

“Well, maybe not here here. I may have pressed the wrong button on the elevator. I also might be very drunk.”

A look of mild panic comes over Clarke, “Go to bed Bellamy, I don’t want you puking on my notes.”

Bellamy looks offended, “I’m not going to puke! And where do you plan on sleeping?”

“Here, I guess.”

“No, I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t _what_?” She stands up, rage obvious on her face. “You don’t get to decide anything! Who the hell do you-”

“Oh my god Clarke, shut up.” He rubs his temples in exasperation. “I’m a don, you know. I’m supposed to take care of the students. Even the ones I’m not technically in charge of.”

Clarke looks like she might hit him still and it strikes Bellamy how much he’s NOT in the mood for a fight. “Look, just... I’ve got a couch in my room. Please? As much as this is a safe university, you can’t just sleep wherever you want. I just...” He runs a hand over his jaw and Clarke realizes that he’s worried about her and her safety or something. Somehow, with the alcohol clouding his brain, he’s forgetting that he’s supposed to hate her. Even so, Clarke is not a charity case and she can handle herself, _thank you very much,_ and she’s just about to tell him to leave her alone when her feet stop making contact with the floor.

It takes her a second to realize that he’s picked her up, but once she does she smacks his chest hard.

“BELLAMY!” she shouts, “Put me down! Now!”

“Sorry Princess, but I’m really not in the mood for a fight and I’ll be in an even worse mood tomorrow morning if I wake up and you’re dead.”

Clarke mutters something under her breath, sounding murderous.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’ll kill me in my sleep. You know what? I think you like me actually.”

Clarke looks like she’s going to explode and Bellamy would be lying if he said it wasn’t hilarious. She kicks her feet out and hits his chest, and Christ, it isn’t like she’s not strong enough to hurt him, but he barely feels the blows. He keeps his arms locked around her though, scared she might fall and hurt herself. And maybe he’s wanted to hold her like this for awhile now, but so what? He’s got eyes. He knows she’s gorgeous.

When she finally deigns to look around, they’re at his room. Bellamy puts her down gently and looks straight into her eyes. “Clarke, I’m not going to make you sleep here. But you really can’t sleep in the common room and you said you don’t want to go back to your room so please, I’m begging you, just stay.”

Clarke is suddenly overwhelmed by the emotion in his eyes. She doesn’t want to think about how it makes her feel so she looks down, avoiding his intense stare. He unlocks the door and holds it open, an offer now, not a command. Clarke rolls her eyes and stalks past him into the room, moving too quickly to see the look of relief wash over his features.

Clarke takes in the space, sees the bed in the corner and the couch to her right and moves to the bed. She doesn’t even glance at Bellamy as she says

“You get the couch. Asshole.”

His lips twitch at the lack of actual hostility in her voice as he moves to the couch, collapses and promptly falls asleep.

***

The clock reads 4am when Bellamy wakes up, head clear but pounding. He gazes over to Clarke, asleep in his bed and he’s surprised to find a pair of watery eyes looking back.

“Bellamy?” she whispers, looking like, well, a bit of a mess if he’s being honest.

“Are you ok?” he asks

“I just...” she takes a deep breath and seems to steady herself. “I had a nightmare, ok?”

Ignoring the spinning room, Bellamy stands up from the couch and walks over to the bed. Watching for any sign of rejection, he gently lowers himself until he’s sitting beside her, close but not touching.

“What was it about?”

“My dad.”

Bellamy looks at her with understanding. He knew her dad had died a couple years ago in a mugging gone wrong. She had been walking home from school and had been the one to find him when she was only 15. Not that she had told him this of course, but it had been in all the papers and really, there weren’t many girls named Clarke.

Bellamy couldn’t think of anything to say, so he wordlessly and tentatively held out his arms. Faster than he could process it, she had sat up and thrown herself at him. His arms closed around her instinctively, one securely around her back and the other gently cradling her head. He held her there, rocking slightly, surprised and a little bewildered at this turn of events, but really really not complaining. She didn’t make any move to leave his arms and he took the opportunity to pull her closer and bury his face in her hair.

When she finally did pull away, she didn’t go far. Just pulled back enough to look at him. He forced himself not to look at her lips because how creepy would that be? It really was a bad time to be coming to terms with his feelings for the argumentative blonde. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed the look of concentration and determination that came over her. He didn’t have time to decipher it before she moved towards him and kissed him very gently on the lips. He sat there, unmoving and stunned and she pulled back quickly. He could see the blush starting to rise in her cheeks as she looked away. He was still trying to work out why she looked like she might cry again when finally his brain kicked into gear and his hand shot up to cup her face. Slowly, he leaned into her stopping just shy of kissing her and rested his forehead against hers, content to just hold her for a moment. When the moment passed he tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss wasn’t anything like Clarke thought it would be. She thought it would be like everything with Bellamy, rough and passionate. Instead, he held her like he would break her and kissed her so softly she could swear she was imagining it. Her hands, which had been hanging uselessly between their two bodies until now, lifted to tangle in his hair. The only thought in her mind was more and she tried to vocalize it but it came out mumbled against his lips. Bellamy laughed softly and pulled back.

“Yes Princess?”

She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him. “I’m not going to break, you know”

Bellamy smiled at her, “Oh Princess, I know”

With that, he dove towards her lips, capturing them again, this time biting her bottom lip gently like he had seen her do too often for his comfort. He slowly lowered himself over her until she was lying on her back with him hovering above her. His mouth moved away from her lips and her whine of protest turned into a moan as he attached himself to her neck, sucking hard enough to definitely leave a mark. When he was finished, he pulled back to inspect the hickey and she decided it was time for some payback. Her hands quickly left his hair and traveled down his back until she reached his ass. Without a second of hesitation, she grabbed him and pulled his hips down to meet her own as she arched up. When she opened her eyes, he looked desperate and she counted that as a victory. Bellamy closed his eyes, seeming to be struggling with something internally. When he looked at her, it was with mild amusement and disappointment. Clarke was still trying to understand the look when he spoke.

“Look, Princess... I want this to be special and...”

Clarke cut him off, “This is special Bell! Really, perfect even!”

Bellamy’s mouth twisted slightly “Clarke. I want to worship you like you deserve. I want to take care of you. And as much as I want to do that right fucking now, I don’t know if I can with my head pounding like this.”

She still looked confused so he tried to clarify.

“You know, from being super drunk before. Apparently getting older does not equal getting better at tolerating alcohol.”

Clarke sighed, “Fine. Mr Senior Citizen. Sleep now then?”

He laughed “Yes, sleep now.”

With that, he moved as if to stand and her arms locked around him.

“Um, where do you think you’re going?”

“The couch?”

“Wrong. You’re going to cuddle with me. And that’s not a request.”

Slowly, he maneuvered himself off of her until he could rest beside her. She immediately snuggled into his side and he wrapped his arms around her, making sure she was comfortable before relaxing into the bed.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment or Kudos. Or come talk to me on [tumblr](http://onedaytofly.tumblr.com)


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